vatheon | when the heavens opened

Entry tags:

when the heavens opened

Who: Akechi Mitsuhide and anyone.
Where: The abandoned village on the island.
When: Daytime.
Style: Starting in prose, but follow on as you wish. ♥
Status: Open!

~

It rained.

Mitsuhide had wandered the village for some time, the purple parasol he held keeping his head dry. There was no particular aim to this wandering. He simply went wherever his legs took him, listening to the rain and his own thoughts as he did so.

There was almost too much to dwell on right now. His head was full of regrets, guilt and sadness, dulled only slightly by that quiet strength he didn't know he had. That Hideyoshi's presence in Vatheon, and the force of the man's hatred, hadn't sent him into a state worse than this was a testament to that strength, as well as the steps he had taken since first being brought to the enchanted city.

Still...

After something like an hour he stopped beside one of the abandoned houses. It had a porch that would serve as shelter, and so he stepped upon it and dropped his parasol.

Glancing down, it became evident that the bottom of his hakama was soaked through.

Mitsuhide sighed.

"To be expected... I was foolish to come up here today," he said, looking back up and across the village. At least the view was beautiful; there was something appealing (if lonely) about heavy rain.

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The bubble had always been nice and temperate, almost always the perfect weather. That is one of the reasons Akihiko is currently up on the island, jogging through the rain. It was important to keep his body in top condition - and to teach it to adapt to different kinds of terrain. Running on a city street was far different from a sandy beach or a muddy pathway, everything provided a different kind of resistance and worked his muscles in a different way. Being in the rain, however, was to boost his immune system. After that bought of illness, curse or not, the boxer was determined to make certain it wasn't going to happen again.

He jogs near the village, mud on his shoes and on his pant legs. He slows his pace as he catches sight of that purple parasol, squinting a bit through the rain to try and make out who it was. The attire was his first indication - and that long, black hair was the second. He clears his throat and moves closer, calling out to the figure a short distance away-

"Hey, Mitsuhide-san? Is that you?"

Mitsuhide looks around at the sound of that voice. He blinks when he sees the figure drawing closer, a little surprised to see someone out in the rain without anything to keep them dry. He would never go out into the rain with some kind of cover; partially to keep himself from catching an illness, and, in truth, to stop himself from getting messy.

One thing he has never liked is looking unkempt in public.

Even if he had failed to recognise the voice, the hair would have given away the identity of the speaker.

"Akihiko. Yes, it is I."

The samurai tilts his head, looking over at the young man as he drew closer.

"You are... training?"

With confirmation that it's definitely Mitsuhide, Akihiko has no problem moving in closer to the older man. Things hadn't been going too well for his friend lately but it's good to see him out and about on the island - that's definitely an improvement of sorts. He almost wants to ask what the man's doing up here but for now, he refrains - maybe he just wanted some privacy. The sudden thought almost makes Akihiko grimace but he manages to hide it, opting instead to give a quick nod. A few drops of water splash from his wet hair as he does so, though they quickly get lost in the steady drizzle.

"Yeah, this weather's perfect for it. Rain, mud... I need to make sure my body's prepared for anything this place is going to throw at it, curse or otherwise," he says, perhaps with a bit too much enthusiasm for someone dripping wet.

From the space between two abandoned houses, Walter emerged. Like Mitsuhide, there was no particular aim to his wandering, save that he desired to be alone and scouting an unfamiliar area in the rain, thus, had seemed ideal. He trudged on despite the weather bearing its waters down on him, wet from head to toe as he was. The water simply did not bother him.

Midway down a faded path, he stopped. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a blurred figure in the distance on a porch, but said nothing.

Even now, there were people here.

Gazing out, and looking around aimlessly, the samurai's gaze settled on the figure in the rain

He blinked.

Yet another out in the heavy downpour? Perhaps it wasn't really as odd as it seemed; this kind of weather after so long gave people longings they'd never even knew they had. The feel of the wind and rain... it was refreshing.

Perhaps the loneliness he'd felt here was a draw too. There were many reasons for one to want to be alone; after all, he'd come up to be alone with his thoughts himself.

That could not stop him from being polite.

Mitsuhide stuck his head out a little, long head of black hair brushing against the wood of the porch.

"Is everything okay?" he called out.

There was a second's delay for the words to carry through the pounding of the rain, and for a moment, Walter considered leaving. But it was a single person, and that, he supposed, was preferrable to a whole population under the sea's surface, the only other place he could go.

Stepping around, he marched to the porch and under the shelter it had to offer, though he kept his distance from its other occupant. His clothes dripped water onto the dry floor.

"Why are you here?" he asked not accusingly, but with a quiet, flat tone that was far from curious.

Mitsuhide's question went unanswered, but Walter figured that he looked okay.

Upon discovering that, on the day he had designated for his first - and likely last - exploration of the island above, some form of protection from the rain would be necessary, Gorthan had gotten an umbrella of his own. The object's violet color, and the turquoise of Gorthan's robe... the two colors of Evron's emblem, he mused. There truly was no better choice.

His attraction to the vestiges of the past directed his steps to the abandoned village. It was not long until he saw and recognized Mitsuhide in the distance.

His eyes narrowed in thought, the black of his eyelids closing in on blue. Thanks to Hideyoshi, he now knew Mitsuhide's secret. Did he condemn him? Yes, most definitely. And yet, to condemn Mitsuhide would equal condemning himself. There was no greater and more horrible crime than treason. And yet, Gorthan was guilty of it as well.

He approached Mitsuhide, but pretended not to see him, instead looking up and staring at the clouds above. For now, all he wanted to do was see Mitsuhide's reaction to a certain Zartas quote.

"When a slave raises his head, it is time to force him to bow." he recited in a slow, dramatic fashion meant to terrify, loud enough for Mitsuhide to hear.

Mitsuhide did not repeat his question, though the lack of an answer made him wonder. The way someone looked was not always a good indication of how they felt. There were plenty of souls who could smile and laugh when their hearts were broken, their shoulder heavy.

"The rain," he said, quietly. "Foolish as it is, there is peace in a land under heavy rain."

That was not all there was to it, of course. That same peace brought a sense of loneliness, of isolation, and sometimes Mitsuhide needed that... or perhaps it was more because he felt he deserved it.

He dipped his head briefly.

"Forgive me if I disturbed you."

"You certainly have plenty of energy, my friend." Mitsuhide laughs quietly, despite himself. "Just be careful not to overdo it, least you grow ill."

That would be easy enough to do. Mitsuhide recalls, as a child, wrestling with Motochika in the rain. To begin with he had been wandering around under a parasol, but Motochika had grabbed it and thrown it away.

He couldn't remember exactly how that had led to them playfighting, but his mother had been horrified to find her son and his friend rolling around in the mud while a storm soaked them to the bone.

Mitsuhide had indeed grown ill. Motochika, however, had not.

"Though I suppose you might well have the constitution to deal with it. Heavens know I do not."

That certainly drew Mitsuhide's attention. He blinked, and looked around until his gaze settled on Gorthan.

Ah.

The young samurai frowned. He certainly felt no fear, only a little puzzled and, perhaps, unsettled. There was surely a deeper meaning to what had just been said, and that thought made something in his stomach churn, but his reaction outwardly was to the surface meaning.

"No, that's... that's not right," he said softly, only just enough to be heard above the sound of the rain. "No soul should be enslaved. The slave who raises his head is courageous, the man who shackled him wrong."

Gorthan turned abruptly towards Mitsuhide then, seemingly upset not by his response in itself, but at its implication that Zartas' words could have been wrong.

"The great Zartas, the invincible, the beacon, is always right."

Then again, Gorthan knew the true meaning Zartas' last poem, "The Warrior King", and how it invalidated nearly everything that the late poet had written before. But that, too, had to remain unspoken, at least for now.

Gorthan's expression softened into a neutral one as he moved a few steps towards Mitsuhide.

"Perhaps I should explain. The entire society of Evron would not exist and function without CoolFlames, our slaves from the planets we have conquered. They are at the very bottom of our social structure. Right above them are Evronian common soldiers. And above them, there is our caste system, comprising a Lower Caste, a Middle Caste - where I was originally born -, and a Higher Caste. And even the Higher Caste answers to the Imperial Council, which I am part of, and even the Council answers to the Emperor... Our entire world is built on absolute, unquestioning obedience of every instruction that comes from above."

"I've always been pretty good about not getting sick, probably because I put my body through a lot. It's probably gotten used to it by now," he says with a short laugh, shaking his head. Mornings full of training in any kind of weather coupled with so many nights fighting Shadows in Tartarus certainly did take a toll on him but Akihiko always persevered, even through all that exhaustion. Vatheon didn't have any Shadows so he needed to make up for it by training double time.

"I don't usually come up here to train... Do you walk here often?"

The words of the man struck him as far too true -- that heavy rain would, despite the darkness it brought, almost force peace unto a land by driving the people into their shelters. The outside world was often empty during such times.

A frown threatened to spill, but Walter maintained an even face.

"I came up here of my own accord."

Suffice it to say, Walter hardly saw it as Mitsuhide having disturbed him when he'd decided to walk up and answer. And though he wasn't light on his subconscious judgment, the seeming understanding of the man provoked fewer negative thoughts.

On the verge of staring, there was a pregnant pause before he continued, "How long have you been here?"

It was more a demand than a question, but a question regardless. And although the wording was vague, his emphasis on "here" implied Vatheon as a whole. There was something he wished to make clear.

Mitsuhide picked up on that implication. He tilted his head, thoughtful for a moment and unsure why it was being asked, but after a moment decided it did not matter why.

"Well over a year and a half, now," he said. "There remain only a handful of souls who have been here longer than I."

The young samurai had watched so many come and go now, befriended many and lost most. Such was the way of the city. But he and his Lord Motochika had remained, never leaving, remaining within the security Vatheon offered them. Here Mitsuhide had something to live for; a future.

He knew it could vanish at any moment, but still...

Walter had expected several months or thereabouts, and although the statement did not come as much of a surprise, it was somewhat alarming with the sheer duration of the man's stay. A year, in retrospect, was not long at all, but it sounded it.

Nevertheless, it worked for him.

"Is this weather unusual?" he asked still in that tone bordering on demanding, this time with his hand held out inquisitively. After all, that was all Walter knew of in the art of questioning. Not that he was in search of another method.

"...so there is no freedom at all?"

Mitsuhide looked rather horrified at that suggestion. His own land was not without its social structures; the peasantry, the nobles, the samurai, the royals, but... not to the degree that Evron did. The idea of a society resting entirely on the shoulders of slaves, forced into a role that would no doubt overwork them and shorten their lives, made him feel vaguely ill.

"Oh good heavens," he muttered, eyes sliding shut. "Unquestioning obedience, so in essence one being's word dictates all? One soul's judgment? An entire society across many worlds catering to the whim of one.... even in Japan, a daimyo can never wield absolute power."

Which is what Nobunaga would have done, no doubt. That thought surprised Mitsuhide, but why did it? He knew his former Lord would have formed a tyranny... and that, once, he had obeyed the man without question himself.

"I... no, I cannot agree with you. That is not right. Everything dictated by one, everything supported by souls forced to go against their will... could anyone know happiness?"

Edited 2012-04-02 10:19 (UTC)

For a long moment Gorthan listened to Mitsuhide with his eyes narrowed in thought. But that last sentence made him smile.

"Happiness is impossible for us. Myself included."

He moved a few more steps towards Mitsuhide.

"And nothing we do is against our will. Our will is singular. Those who were not born to lead, were born to obey. We act as one. I am told there is an insect species on your planet whose colonies are organized similarly to our society. Bee, I believe the name is."

He paused, taking a deep breath of the humid air.

"I have met your daughter. And that man, whose presence, according to her, upsets you so much, too. Actually, we appear to live in the same building. On the same floor."

His tone is very casual. None of this is a threat, though it is probably what it sounds like.

"For yourself?"

Mitsuhide tilted his head, a frown gracing his features.

"That makes no sense. You clearly have your own will, an individual identity. One seperate to your race as a whole, my Lord. I knew that was so that day in the library. If I may be blunt, you seem to... almost struggle with that fact..."

He trailed off there, biting his lip. Perhaps that was a little too much? Mitsuhide had many thoughts on this matter, but some were perhaps best kept back. At least for now.

"Forgive me. Perhaps that was inappropriate."

The other's next words definitely caused a reaction in Mitsuhide, though not a threatened one; it was slow, sad, not dramatic at all. He did not keep this part of himself secret, nor did he expect Hideyoshi not to speak his mind.

Which was obviously why Gorthan knew about his history, now.

"His presence does not upset me," he said, after a short time. "Mine upsets him, I know this. He looks at me and sees his Lord's killer, a traitor, a sinner. I am all these things. That is what disturbs me. I cannot say I do not deserve it."

He shook his head; there was a thread of strength in his voice, however, when he added:

"Nevertheless... I would not change what I did. I know that now. I could not let him form a tyranny."

"This island has known nothing but clear skies, until now."

Mitsuhide's gaze shifted, so he was looking out at the rain again.

"So... yes. I would say this is unusual. The only rain I have seen before now in this place has been literally within Vatheon. The result of a curse."

"Even if I were capable of true happiness, what difference would it make? All of my people remain incapable of it on a physiological level. That fact alone means I am denied happiness either way."

Standing next to Mitsuhide now, Gorthan made his umbrella twirl in his hand.

"Then perhaps you should make your daughter privy to that clarification. She seems to be directing a good deal of her emotions towards him. I am sure that, as her father, you would rather avoid that she act on those emotions."

A long silence followed, in which Gorthan looked away from Mitsuhide, pondering whether to tell him that he was guilty of the very same crime.

Walter, on the other hand, maintained his gaze on Mitsuhide, pondering what that answer meant. A curse. If he recalled correctly, one curse held the typical duration of a week.

"Then this could be over within a week."

A pity.

The young samurai looked thoughtful for a moment, thinking. Eventually he spoke, slowly and with care.

"I am not so sure. If it were a curse, I think it is likely it would affect the city as well."

Mitsuhide bowed his head.

"It would be a blessing, to continue having some varied weather up here."

"Not often." Mitsuhide shakes his head. "Though not rarely either. Occasionally is perhaps a better word? My Lord Motochika comes up here every morning, however, to take a swim."

Along with his little Oshawott, Takumi. The little pokemon was like a miniature version of his owner when it came to personality. Stubborn, proud, determined.

"I just wanted to enjoy the rain, today."

"Heh, I'm not much of a rain fan myself..." again, he makes a vain attempt to shake the water from his hair. "It's good to train in but I figure this stuff's more suited to ducks."

That was his attempt at a joke, albeit not a very good one. He gives a bit of a shrug and sheepish smile. "Motochika-san sounds like he swims a lot... I've been thinking about adding it more regularly to my training, I hear it's a great work-out."

"Remain? I cannot believe there is no way to give them such a thing..."

He sighed, deeply, and wrapped a hand around his stomach. Gracia's hatred... such a thing should not taint such a bright, pure soul. In a way he blamed himself for that.

"Of course I do."

Mitsuhide tipped his head back.

"She will not stop directing her hatred towards him. In her world, my counterpart was lost and my Lord Motochika killed at a battle against Hideyoshi. Gracia blames him for that. All I can do is try and stop her from acting on it, and I have done all I can in those regards. What remains is to see if she can reign herself in."

"When you have been separated from such weather for so long, you find yourself appreciating it." Mitsuhide hesitated... and then stepped away from the shelter, walking underneath the rain and staring up. "I lived for over a year and a half without the wind, the rain, the surface of the sea. So now... such things are dear to me."

The rain dripped down his face, and he smiled a fraction.

"Oh, he does."

Mitsuhide laughed again softly.

"It is likely why he has such a wonderful physique."

"He does seem to be in pretty good shape," Akihiko says with a nod of agreement. He hadn't spoken to Motochika very often but it was evident that the other man did like to show off his body - and his build was impressive, Akihiko could not deny it.

"Maybe he'll give me some tips on where to start?"

Not one for unnecessary words, he fell silent. With a more typical folk of the land, he might have preferred that the varied weather cease in favor of perpetual spring. On the other hand, people were all same to Walter.

"But the rain won't last," he said at last while turning away, to the aforementioned rain and toward which he took a step.

Indeed, the rain would let up later in the day or the day after. Curse or no, it wouldn't stick around in the short term.

"Do you intend to stay there the whole time?"

"Her world... Implying that yours is different. I see. What does this new lord of yours have that your old one did not, I wonder? Ah, but no matter."

He stared off into the distance, in the direction of the sea. That sea so much like the one that had caused him to stop and think...

"Youth is impetuous, Mitsuhide. Your daughter is young, and yet, so are you. Allow me to say that it would be unwise to advise her against recklessness, only to do something reckless yourself. I have no personal experience of the affection that ties a family together, of course, but I know that she must wish for your safety as much as you wish for hers."

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when the heavens opened

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I'm on stellar form this morning 8'D

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